


Take not my pain for you have your own to bear

by Lakritzwolf



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Grief, Hurt, Loss, Mourning, Other, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Tears, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4063162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dís, daughter of Thrain, has regained her home and lost everything else. Her only comfort comes from he who understands her loss.<br/>There is no hope and no healing, but there is comfort in understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take not my pain for you have your own to bear

**Author's Note:**

> The wonderful artist lucife56 kindly gave me permission to use a piece of her art here that she did for the Hobbitcon 4 fanbook project and which fits perfectly into my story. 
> 
> lucife56 on [tumblr](https://lucife56.tumblr.com/) or on [DeviantArt](https://lucife56.deviantart.com/)

  


Dís had never believed she would return home someday, but if so, her loved ones had always been at her side whenever she had allowed herself to dream.

And now she once again wandered the ancient halls of her forefathers; she was home, a home for which she had longed for so many years, but she would gladly have gone back to living like a pauper if it meant having her loved ones back.

Her steps carried her without conscious thought down into the mountain, and into the tomb that held what had been her most precious treasures. Three stone sarcophagi stood there, the runes carved into them spelling out the names of those who rested inside, stone effigies resting on the lids.

She touched the one in the middle, and her tears began to flow. Then she gently placed her hand onto the lid of the right and at last the one beside it. Covering her face in her hands she let the tears flow, but her tears brought her no relief. The only comfort she had was the fact that this time, she had been able to put her brother into a decent grave, not like Frerin who had to be burned like all the others.

She went back upstairs into the world of the living with heavy steps after she had blown her sons a kiss and told them to rest well.

Daín was a good dwarf, he knew that she had lost everything, so he made sure that she was treated with respect and lacked nothing of material value, even if these things no longer had any meaning for her.

Slowly she walked up the stairs and stepped out onto the ramparts, watching the sun hang low in the sky. The wind tugged playfully at her hair, once black like a raven’s feather, now streaked with silver. The wind dried her tears, but nothing could take away the grief that caused them.

She heard steps behind her, but cared little for who it was. Slow, heavy steps, as if the person was bearing a heavy load. She could hear the steps coming closer and come to halt beside her.

“It is cold up here,” Dwalin said.  
“I don’t feel it anymore,” Dís replied in a whisper.  
Dwalin did not reply. He was the only one whose company Dís could stand, because did not plague her with well-meant, meaningless messages of hope and healing. He was a man who understood her loss.

“How long has it been?” Dís finally found the strength to ask. Until now, she still had not yet summoned the strength and courage to find out how they had died. Slain in battle, that much she knew. But she also knew that at some point, she had to know more.  
“With Durin’s Day behind us, it’ll soon be eight years.”  
“Eight years?” Dís blinked away her tears. “It still feels as if I lost them only yesterday.”

“I could not imagine that a grief like yours will ever abate.” Dwalin was honest, and that was why Dís agreed to his company. “You lost everything. Your husband, both your brothers and both your sons. I stand in awe, asking myself how you manage to go on. I don’t know if I had the strength.”  
“I don’t know if strength has anything to do with it, Dwalin. I am waiting for Mahal to end my pain, but he has not seen fit to do so. Why he has chosen to torment me I do not know.”  
“No one should be tormented like you are.” Dwalin’s voice was rough. “And I cannot think of anything you might have done that would justify that punishment.”

Dís remained silent. There were so many questions she had no answer to, but it all came down to this single question, and again, it forced itself out of her mind past her lips.  
“Why?” Her voice broke. “Why?” Overcome by her grief her legs gave in under her and Dwalin just managed to catch her.

Her head against his shoulder she cried, and for a brief moment Dwalin wondered if she had ever allowed her grief to truly let go or if the well of her tears simply could never run dry. Maybe both. But what he was sure of was that Dís had hitherto been suffering alone.

No one, it seems, dared to approach her, hardly anyone talked to her about more than the strictly necessary, not even he himself had dared to offer her companionship even if he had watched her in silence from afar. Like all the decades before, he had only watched her. And even if he could never be to her what he wanted, he could be what she needed.  
He held her close, shielding her from the wind, and let her cry against his shoulder.

When her tears had abated for the time being she leaned back, trying to find words of thanks, but meeting Dwalin’s eyes, she realized that none were needed.

“You have lost everyone dear to you,” Dwalin said, his voice low and rough. “But you need not suffer and grieve alone.”  
A small smile ghosted over her features. “Thorin was like a brother to you.”  
“Aye. And the boys almost like sons as well.”  
Dís laid a hand onto her arm. “You understand.” Not needing to say the words that no one else believed: You understand that a grief like this will never fade.  
“Aye.” Dwalin took her arm and rested her hand in the crook of his own. “I understand, Dís.”

* * *

Dwalin found her the next evening down in the Hallowed Halls, the lowest level of the mountain, where the tombs of the kings of the past were located. She was silent in her grief as she stood between the stone effigies of her sons, but Dwalin knew that her tears could have filled the Sea of Rhun.

He stepped beside her and she leaned against him.

“I was not here when they were laid to rest,” she whispered. “I could never give them their farewell gift.”

Dwalin looked at the cold, lifeless faces, hewn from stone, so alike the faces he remembered and yet, so much less. There was no life, no warmth, no sound. Only cold and lifeless stone.

Then he looked at Dís again. “But you have,” he said, surprisingly gentle for the grizzled old warrior he was. “You have given them your heart, it lies there in the cold stone together with them. You are their mother. They have taken your love with them into the Halls of Mandos and they shall never forget it.

“I never sang their farewell either,” Dís said after a moment, her voice a brittle whisper.  
“It is not something they will miss.” Dwalin sighed. “It is something that is supposed to give us comfort. Us, who remain behind.”  
“I could not glean any comfort from it.”  
“Then there is no use in regretting it.”  
“I could not bear singing it alone.”  
Dwalin took her hand. “You are not alone.”

They stood in silence for a while, but after a deep, shaking breath, Dís lifted her head and began to sing. Her voice echoed through the enormous cavern, a single ululation of grief that seemed to come alive with the echoes it cast. Dwalin looked at the faces of stone instead of hers. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows onto their faces, making it look as if they were trying to come to life as Dís sang her sons to rest.

Dwalin closed his eyes and joined her for the last, spoken prayer.

Their final word hung heavy in the silence.

 _Ankash_. Sorrow.

They left the Sons of Durin to their cold, eternal rest.

* * *

“Come inside with me,” Dís said as they had reached the door to her chambers.  
Dwalin followed her with a nod.  
“I have never talked about them, the memory was too painful to bear.” She sat down on the ground in front of the hearth and Dwalin sat beside her. The fire in the hearth was burning low and the room was only dimly lit.

“But you understand my pain,” Dís continued after a while. “I can share my memories and my grief with you.”  
“Aye.” Dwalin took her hand. “You can.”

As they talked, sharing happy memories made bitter by grief, they moved closer to each other, Dwalin held her as she wept, and was no longer ashamed of his own tears. For the first time he talked about his own pain, about the loss, and about the terrible feeling of failure. He had sworn to protect the Sons of Durin with his very last breath, and yet he had outlived them.

“Why did Mahal take not me?” He asked, his voice breaking. “I am old and alone. They were so young and full of life! I would have gone without regret, Dís. And here you have lost your brother, father and husband, and Mahal decided you should also lose your sons. If I could give my life for theirs, I’d do it in the blink of an eye!”  
“I know,” Dís whispered and this time, it was her holding him.

* * *

“Call on me if ever you should need me,” Dwalin said to her as he was about to leave.  
Dís took his hand. “I will.”  
Dwalin closed both his hands around hers. “You should not be alone.”  
“Neither should you.”  
The ghost of a smile appeared on Dwalin’s scarred face. “I have been alone for most of my life. I have lost neither spouse nor sons.”  
“I know.” Dís met his eyes. “You never married.”  
“No.” Dwalin held her gaze. “The one I wanted chose someone else and I never wished to replace her.”

Dís reached out and placed a hand against his cheek.  
Dwalin closed his eyes. “What would Felin say?”  
She chuckled gently. “He would understand the need for comfort. And I will understand if you chose to go. I cannot give to you what you really want.”  
“No.” Dwalin opened his eyes again.”It was never yours to give.”

They looked at each other in silence.

“Make me forget,” Dís begged in a whisper.  
“I cannot do that,” he replied. “Not for more than a moment.”  
“I will gladly take any moment, be it as short as it may.”

Dwalin kissed her forehead, closed the door, and carried her towards the bedroom.

* * *

Spring came and went. They gained comfort from each other’s understanding.

Summer came and went. They gained a little peace and calmness back in each other’s company.

Durin’s Day came and went, and on the day of the battle, they stood side by side in the tombs of the kings and remembered.

Years came and went. What they had was less than love but more than friendship, but it gained them comfort and companionship that only those who can understand each other can have.

When the news reached the mountain about the loss of Moria, Dís stood at his side.

And later she laid him to rest at Thorin’s side, a friend as close as a brother.

* * *

Dís fell asleep that night listening to voices only she could hear. Memories of happier days forever lost to her. In her dreams, she heard those voices still.

In that night, Mahal had finally mercy on Dís, daughter of Thrain.

She was laid to rest between her sons, never be parted from them again.


End file.
